Wilde for You

“But still…”

“And you can pay us back baby-sitting the twins while Forest and I go away for a weekend or two.”

“Thanks for the offer, Anna, but it’s too complicated.”

“You don’t think I can do it, do you?” Anna said. “I have an acting background, you know. I was great as Emily in Our Town at the community college. Everyone said I had talent.”

Forest snorted. Anna slugged him and he said, “Ouch.”

“I’m sure you’re very talented, Anna, but—”

“Pretending to be married would be good for you, Tuck,” Forest said, leveling him a look. “It’ll keep you out of equipment closets with passing women.” Forest had been completely disgusted by the Melissa encounter and felt obliged to give the big-brother glare from time to time.

“So, I’ll go to the potluck with you,” Anna said, getting into it, “and maybe a faculty party at Christmas. I could spend an occasional weekend at your place. There’s that candy factory out there I love and some antique stores, so I could get some shopping out of it.” Anna scooted to the edge of the sofa in her excitement. “And the rest of the time I’ll jet the globe as a pilot. I always thought that would be a great career. And you love a woman in uniform, right?” She batted her eyes at him.

“Good lord.”

“Forest, you’ll have to take over the boys when I’m in Copper Corners with Tucker,” Anna shot at her husband.

“No prob. To help Tuck out I’ll be glad to babysit.”

“Baby-sit? Ha!” she replied with a snort. “How come when a dad takes care of his kids it’s baby-sitting? And that does not mean letting them climb the curtains while you watch ESPN, either.”

“I can handle it, don’t worry.”

“I’m starting to love this idea,” Anna said. “Plus, I can make sure the principal knows how committed and dedicated and faithful you are, right, Tuck?”

“I don’t see how this could work, Anna,” he said uneasily, but a twinge of hope rose, all the same.

“Call me Julie. And of course it will work. We’ll make it work.”

“I’ll go get the spare ring,” Forest said, jumping up.

“I think I know where the negative for this photo is,” Anna said, scrutinizing the framed shot, “so we can make a print for your wallet.”

“A photo on my desk would be plenty, but…we’d better think this through.” Why was he even considering going along with the Forest-Anna steamroller? Only because of his desperation to not look like an idiot to Harvey. He needed the man’s confidence in him. And part of that confidence was knowing he was stable and married, not a lying single fake.

“Don’t worry, Tucker,” Anna said. “This is a good thing. This way you can really be the dedicated guy you want to be. You’ll be married to your job. Literally.”

Before he could reply, Forest returned, polishing the ring in his shirttail. He plopped it onto Tucker’s palm.

There it sat…the symbol of eternal love and fidelity.

That Tucker would be faking. He almost handed it back.

He hated starting out at Copper Corners on the wrong foot—letting the misunderstanding become a false life. On the other hand, it was almost poetic that sex was messing him up again—his last impulsive behavior. This was a warning.

And it was true that being married—even as a pretense—would keep him on the straight and narrow when it came to women. And he’d do such good work that in the end the charade wouldn’t matter a bit.

But could a wedding band, a photo on his desk and an occasional appearance by his wife be enough to fake a marriage? Hard to believe. Tucker tucked the ring in his pocket. He’d have to think about it.

2

ON HIS FIRST DAY at Copper Corners High, Tucker strode purposefully toward the administration building to talk to Harvey Winfield, fingering the wedding band in his pocket as he walked. He’d decided to tell Harvey the truth. He wasn’t married. It was all a misunderstanding.

He dreaded how stupid he’d sound, but the fake marriage was too weird, no matter how enthusiastic Anna and Forest were about the idea. This was no way to launch his career. Anna would be disappointed, of course—she planned to drive down tomorrow to organize the house he’d rented—but he had to do the right thing.

Once inside the building, Tucker found Harvey at the reception desk. Perfect. He’d just get it over with and start fresh.

As an idiot.

“Good to see you, Tucker.” Harvey shook his hand, gripping Tuck’s forearm with his other hand, his eyes warm with affection.

Do it now. Tell him. “I need to clear something up, Harvey.”

“Sure thing, but before I forget, your wife called. What a delightful woman. She said to tell you to feel free to work as late as you want, since she has plenty to do at the house. She knows how dedicated you are.”

“She does?” he said blankly. Anna must have arrived early and called out here to impress Harvey with Tuck’s commitment and her support. Damn, she was good.

“She wanted to know what to bring to the potluck next week.” Harvey smiled. “You’re a lucky man, Tucker. She reminds me of my Nadine. It’s so fortunate that she’ll be in town for the dinner. Sounds like the airline keeps her quite busy.”

“Oh, yes, she’s one busy woman, all right,” he said, blowing out a breath. How could he tell Harvey the truth now? His fake wife had sealed his fate. A misunderstanding was one thing, but a plot with coconspirators? With a sigh, Tuck put his hand into his pocket and slid the ring onto his fourth finger. It felt strange—heavy, like the lie pressing in on his chest—but he’d make the best of it.

“Let’s get you started,” Harvey said. “We’ve got some papers to sign, of course, but I want you to know right off the bat that I’m going to give you free rein here. I’ve been accused of being a micromanager, Tucker, but I’ve turned over a new leaf. The best way to learn this job is to live this job. You’d think after thirty years at it, I’d figure that out. So if you’d keep me posted on your activities—regular updates now—we’ll be fine. I know you won’t let me down.”

And he wouldn’t. He’d do everything he could to justify Harvey’s faith in him. The fake marriage was a glitch, but he’d just think of himself as married to the job, like Anna had said, and that would have to do.

TWO WEEKS LATER, Tucker saved the changes he’d made in the new computerized class schedule, stood and stretched. He wanted to greet the teachers setting up their rooms early and see what he could do to help them. School would start in a week.

He looked around his office—his first as an administrator. He loved it. The room was tiny, his wooden desk shabby and scarred, his chair in danger of collapsing and his computer practically pre-DOS, but he’d filled the shelves with his own books and professional journals, along with the district’s curriculum manuals, hung the walls with motivational posters and artwork, and organized his desk so that the place felt like home.

The brass plaque Ben had given him in high school rested beside his computer. It held a quote from William James: The greatest discovery of my generation is that a human being can alter his life by altering his attitudes of mind. That had been Ben’s message to him. Tucker liked to keep it always in view.

He’d called Ben about the job, who’d expressed his confidence in Tuck and talked about the things he was working on at Western Sun that Tucker would be able to take over once he got back there. The man Ben had hired was definitely retiring in three years. Tucker had a good shot at the job if he did well at Copper Corners. Things were falling into place.

Every day Tuck had been here made him feel surer this was the right step for him. He was already making a difference. He’d upgraded the class schedule software and purchased a school-wide grading program for next to nothing through a promotion he’d researched. And he was planning to add some needed extracurricular activities right away.

Everything was going according to plan, he thought, looking around again. His glance fell on the photo of him with Anna—no, Julie—his wife. Well, everything except that. He angled the photo out of his line of vision. He would keep that low-key, and it shouldn’t matter. Anna would come out to the potluck and then be off on her busy flying schedule.

Grabbing a clipboard to take notes about what the teachers needed, Tucker set off across the quad between the school’s brick buildings to meet the teachers who were here—there were three or four at least.

The air was filled with the fierce rasp of cicadas and the sun baked the top of his head. August in southern Arizona was brutal. Its bright burn seemed to have washed out the green of the paloverde tree trunks. Everything looked dusty and tired of summer.

The heat had the opposite effect on Tucker—it energized him. Surveying the campus gave him a rush of ownership and responsibility. This was his school. He knew every corner of campus now. He’d spent a week assisting Dwayne the custodian move shelves and replace equipment in all the buildings, so that helped, but it was more. He’d absorbed the feel of the place, knew all its classrooms and corridors by heart. Sappy, maybe, but there it was.

When he left in three years, things would be better here than when he’d arrived. Achievement scores and student involvement would rise and teacher satisfaction would soar.

Tucker met the new English teacher first, then visited with a veteran history teacher setting up her class. After that, he headed to Building D, where the English teacher had said the new science teacher was working.

As he walked, he found himself running his thumb over the smooth curve of Forest’s wedding band. He was constantly aware of it—catching the sunlight when he walked, snagging soap when he washed his hands, in sight when he worked at the computer. Wearing it, he felt phony, but safe. Since he’d declared women off-limits, being married was insurance. He did intend to marry one day, so this was a test of how it would be.

Without the woman. Or the love.

Or the sex.

Which was a definite downside. But he could handle it. He’d sublimate his sex drive in work and everyone would benefit.

He entered the D building, which held science, math, computer and art classes, and got a blast of hip-hop music from an open classroom door—his destination, no doubt.

Inside the room, the music was so loud his ears throbbed. He spotted the teacher on a ladder, hammering something to the ceiling. A jungle vine, he could see, made of cloth. A couple dozen dangled around the room, which was also decorated with three papier-mâché trees.

At the back, there was a bank of terrariums, where he made out a couple of snakes and a large lizard…maybe an iguana? The bulletin boards held maps of South America and photos of exotic creatures. The total effect was of a jungle, dense and complex, and full of color.

And a fire code violation.

Then he got a load of the teacher and lost all thought for a second. She wore white shorts, which were pulled tight over her round backside because of her position on the ladder. Below the shorts were great legs—muscles tensed along their shapely length as she hammered away. Nice feet, too, he saw, since she was barefoot. With plump toes, the nails painted fire-engine red.

She hadn’t heard him enter over the pounding music, and now he was close enough to catch her scent. She smelled familiar and sexy…like Melissa. What were the odds of that?

He reminded himself of his purpose here—to offer any help she might need—and called over the music, “Hello?”

“Wha—?” She jerked, then turned, wobbling on the ladder.

Tuck stepped forward and braced her thigh—as firm as it looked—to keep her from tumbling. He looked up at her face and swallowed hard.

Oh, God.

It was Cricket, his college crush, her green eyes round and wide, blond hair in parentheses around her cheeks.

“Tucker! I don’t believe it!” Her face lit with pleasure. She looked down at her leg, where his hand still rested.

He let go fast, rubbing his still-warm palm on his pants.

She climbed down the ladder—rather, bounced—twisted a knob on the CD player to lower the volume, then turned to him. “What a small world!”

“Yeah.” He felt like Rick from Casablanca. Of all the high schools in all the towns in all the world, she had to walk into his.

“You teach here?” she asked.

“I’m the assistant principal. I’m new.”

“Me, too. But I’m a teacher. Well, not quite. I have an emergency certificate.” She stepped closer to him and he caught more of her special scent—vanilla, cinnamon and something peppery. “They needed a science teacher and I had tons of science credits, plus I love science—I was a volunteer at the zoo, and I’ve always contributed to the Sierra Club. So, I got the job. Of course, they didn’t have another applicant, but, oh, well. Listen to me babble. How’d you end up here?”

“Long story.” He didn’t care to lay out the details of his fall from grace. She looked as good as he remembered. Short and compact, pixieish, with a heart-shaped face, small nose and pretty mouth—features that made you expect her to be sweet, but he knew she was mouthy and irreverent, with a lusty laugh that managed to charm despite its decibel strength, and green eyes that glinted with mischief.

Nothing she wore was immodest, not even her stretchy red top, but she was so sexy she had to be violating codes all over the place—dress codes, morality codes, building codes, whatever. She was one big violation.

He couldn’t help checking out her ring finger and found just a silver peace sign.

“Man, how long has it been?” she asked.

“Must be six, seven years.” He tried to sound cool, but he could have figured out exactly how long ago that make-out session had been. It had been two days before Christmas, and they’d drank a couple of beers, talked a long time—finishing each other’s sentences—and then they’d gotten personal and there had been that mistletoe….

“Yeah. Finals, right? Christmas time.”

“Yeah. Christmas time.”

Her eyes told him she remembered the moment, too. And with pleasure, judging by her soft smile. “Whatever happened with you and Sylvia?” she asked. “I moved out just after you and I…after that night.”

“Nothing,” he said. “I think she married an electrical engineering professor.” The guy she’d stood him up for, which made him feel less guilty about kissing Cricket. He’d slept with plenty of women in college, but he never overlapped.

“I lost track of her after I moved out of the apartment,” Cricket said. “Too much temptation to party. I had to hit the books, resuscitate my GPA.” She scrunched up her nose. “I hated hitting the books.”

“I remember,” he said. She’d been studying biology when he’d joined her on the couch while he waited for Sylvia and they’d commiserated about GPA pressure and the stifling nature of lecture halls, moving on to discuss a global sweatshop protest they’d both attended, then to their beliefs on social issues—poverty, ecology, the proper role of government.

The words flowed easily, as if they’d known each other for years. They’d disagreed some—Cricket was more black and white in her beliefs than he was—but with humor and mutual respect. In short, they’d connected. Intellectually, emotionally and, um, sexually. Somewhere in there, she’d started drinking his beer. Then let it slip that she thought he was cute.

And he’d told her she was pretty, and she’d mumbled something about mistletoe, cupped his face with both hands and kissed him…like he was some exotic fruit she wanted to get every juice from.

He’d kissed her right back, a tsunami of lust pounding through him. She’d tasted of beer and peppermint and smelled of cinnamon and vanilla and spice—fresh with a winter bite. She’d slipped onto his lap and he’d held her tight. She’d felt delicate, but springy. Strong and hot.

There was something not to be missed about that encounter. Like snow in Tucson. So rare you had to drop everything and run outside to let the flakes fall in your mouth. Come to think of it, they’d been nowhere near any mistletoe….

“Me, too,” she said, taking another step forward. “I remember, too.” Electricity zinged between them. He could swear the jungle vines swayed in the static. “We had a great talk. And everything…”

She was looking him over, head cocked like it had been that night right before she’d kissed him. Then her gaze dipped and snagged on something.

His left hand. The gold band gleamed under the fluorescent lights like a treasure.

“You’re married?” she said. Did she sound disappointed? And why did he hope so?

“Um, yeah. Absolutely.” He twisted the ring with the fingers of his other hand.

“How long?” she asked.

“Two years.” Forest and Anna thought that sounded like enough years to be solidly married and not attract newlywed jokes.

Cricket nodded slowly. “Kids?”

“No.”

“But soon?”

“When the time is right.” This was true. He did want kids. After he had a real wife, of course. “You’re not married?”

“Are you kidding? I’m just figuring out what I want to be when I grow up. When I’ve got that handled, maybe I’ll find someone. When I’m ready to hibernate.” She shrugged as if that were unlikely, then tilted her head again. “Is it good? Marriage, I mean?”

“Sure,” he said, the lie giving him a twinge. It would be good, he was sure.

She’d obviously picked up his discomfort because she said, “Really?”

“It has its ups and downs,” he said to cover his hesitation.

“Yeah. Same with any choice. The pros and cons and ups and downs. I hate that.” She bit her lip, then seemed to cheer up. “Anyway, I’m happy for you, Tucker. Really.” Her expression warmed, calling back the intimacy of their evening together all those years ago. “She’s a lucky woman.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said.

“Oh, I do. You were a great kisser.” She elbowed him playfully in the side.

“I’d say that was all you.”

“Team effort.” She sighed. “That night was something, huh?”

“Yeah. Something.”

“I couldn’t believe how much I blathered on and on.”

“We had a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

They stopped talking for a long moment. The beat of attraction thudded in Tucker’s ears.

He’d thought about looking her up after Sylvia and he broke up, but they were near graduation, and he’d been disturbed by how powerfully Cricket had affected him. He’d felt out of control, the way he had in high school. Besides, he was too tame for her, he was sure.

With a start, he realized he’d held Cricket’s gaze way too long for a married man—even one experiencing ups and downs in his marriage. “Anyway, that was a long time ago.”

“And now you’re an administrator. Wow. I would have figured you for an ACLU attorney or some intellectual rabble-rouser.”

“I considered law, actually, but education is important. It’s a way to influence the next generation.”

“Sheesh, that sounds ancient. The only generation we’re old enough to influence—or even talk about—is the Pepsi one.”

“How’d you get into teaching anyway?” he asked, not liking how she made him feel like an old fogy. “Weren’t you studying nursing?”

“Turns out blood makes me faint. It’s, like, a reflex. I catch sight of red and everything goes black.” She shrugged. “Kind of lame, I know.”

“You can’t help your reflexes,” he said.

She smiled. “Sounds better than being a flake, huh? So, after that I tried social work.” She made a face.

“No good?”

“Too much bureaucracy. You can save the world, but only after you fill out the correct forms.”

“In triplicate?”

“Exactly. Then last summer I was a counselor at a summer camp for low-income kids and really loved it and I realized teaching might be my thing, so I thought I’d see how it goes. Science is cool, too. I love biology. Chemistry’s a little scary, but I’ll figure it out.” She looked around the room, her eyes narrowing in evaluation. “What do you think of my rain forest?”

“Impressive.” He’d have to say something about the fire code before she hammered up more vines.

“This will be the framework for teaching biology,” she said. “Everything will be tied to this—ecosystems, conservation, the greenhouse effect, species differentiation. Plus, we’ll do writing and art projects, along with science.”

“A thematically based integrated curriculum.”

“Wow.” She blinked. “And I just thought it sounded fun.”

“That, too.”

“So that’s how you get the big bucks—coming up with big hairy labels for fun stuff.”

“Pretty much. It’s a great idea, Cricket. Innovative.” And a fire hazard. He had to tell her so. It was his job. “The only thing is we can’t have anything flammable within six inches of the ceiling tiles.”

“What? Oh, right. Good one.” She slugged him gently on the arm.

“I’m serious. It’s the fire code. And the trees will have to be dealt with, too—the branches trimmed and that one—” he pointed “—needs to be moved so it doesn’t block the exit.”

“It took me four hours to get this stuff up. And the trees took forever to situate.”

“I’ll help you move them.”

“How about if I just take my chances with the fire marshal?”

“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You’ll still have the jungle effect with your animals and bulletin boards.”

“Come on, Tucker. You’re not one of those rules-are-rules guys, are you? In college, you were at the demonstrations, ready to get arrested with the rest of us.”

“We had permits.”

“Please, sir, can we protest? Sheesh.” She rolled her eyes.

“The petitions and meetings with the university president achieved what we wanted. The demonstrations were mostly to make us feel better.”

“That’s not true, is it?”

“More or less. The point is that if you play by the major rules, you can bend the minor ones. And safety’s major.”

“So I’ll pat down the kids for matches.”

“I’ll get another ladder and help you.”

“I’ll handle it,” she said, her eyes sparking with irritation. And stubbornness.

“Okay, then.” He lifted his clipboard, pen at the ready. “Is there anything else you need in the way of furniture, equipment or textbooks?”

“What I need is for you to forget the fire code.”

“No can do.”

They held each other’s gaze in a High Noon stand-off. Something told him this wouldn’t be his last run-in with Cricket.

He blinked first. “Anyway…I know the first few weeks of teaching can be overwhelming, but we’re here—Harvey and I—to make your job easier.”

She rolled her eyes in a yeah, right. But her wry smile softened the effect.

“In the long run, you’ll thank me.”

“You sound old, Tuck.” She patted him on the shoulder.

Part of him bristled, but having her think of him as an old married administrator was probably a good thing. If they were in a different place, a different time, he’d be after her in a heartbeat, eager to see if time had altered the heat between them. He rubbed his ring with his thumb, grateful he wore it. Melissa had been a mere echo of Cricket. Without this gold emblem on his fingers, God knows what career-killing indiscretion he’d be tempted into beneath the branches of her papier-mâché trees and the reptilian eyes of her terrarium dwellers. The school board would never buy “Cricket Fever” as a defense at his hearing.

Unless, of course, they knew Cricket.

WHAT THE HELL HAD happened to Tucker Manning? Cricket couldn’t believe a guy who kissed like a porn star would stand there like an old geezer and tell her to rip down her jungle. In the long run, you’ll thank me? Please.

On top of that, he was married. She got a smidge of concern that she was more disappointed about that than she was over her soon-to-be-deforested jungle.

Tucker Manning was married. Unavailable. Taken.

Not that it mattered. Hell, she hadn’t seen him in years, though he did cross her mind from time to time. They’d connected in such a warm, easy way that night. She’d felt understood, honored, almost urged to say any outrageous thing she thought or felt.